It's Alright
by cndrow
Summary: Leonardo has one fear he simply cannot banish.  Warnings: oneshot; set during my fanfic 'Déjà Vu All Over Again'; mild turtlecest.


Disclaimer & Warnings:  
I do not own the Turtles, as much as I would love to.  
*Contains mild turtlecest.*  
Set sometime during my fanfic _Déjà Vu All Over Again_ (_Competition_ storyline).

* * *

It's Alright

_Fearless Leader._

I don't remember who said it first when we were younger, but for the sarcastic overtones alone, the nickname survived and thrived against my will. I think Mike had a big hand in that.

To this day, I protest when any of my brothers use it. Alex quickly caught on to my intense hatred of the nickname and hasn't used it in all the years we've known her. But my brothers? They also know of my abhorrence, and thus use it when they wish to make a point, goad me into something, or simply tease.

Alex is the only one who's ever asked why I hate it so. _Raphael_ hasn't even asked me that.

_Fearless._ Literally, 'without fear'. That's why it's such a laughable title. I may be leader, but I am filled with fear. Fear of losing my family; fear of failing them in some way; fear of making the wrong choice. And I have a multitude of smaller insecurities that fester beneath the canopy of the larger ones.

I sigh, dropping my face into my palms and rubbing my forehead. The last few days have tried my strength in ways I'd never wanted to again.

Donatello had insisted his wife take an offer recently. A gallery in Seattle wanted her to participate in a prestigious art showing there. Alex has turned down many such offers to remain at home, but we all know what it means for her career. It's hard enough to carve a name for yourself in the art world; much worse if you limit your contacts and appearances to a single city. Certainly, New York is a perfect place to be, but still. We all knew what sacrifice she was making.

Apparently it had been eating at Donnie's conscience for some time now, and when this offer came through, he accepted for her over the phone.

Without her knowledge.

The ensuing fight had been extremely entertaining for the rest of us to watch; Mikey had even made his infamous bowl of popcorn. I'd been quite happy until it came time to choose who went with her.

Thus another fight began that involved all of us; a verbal and physical fight that lasted the better part of the day. Donnie was extremely obstinate, but only because he already knew he wouldn't be able to go. The alarm systems had been all but destroyed in a recent flood, and he'd been working around the clock to repair and replace them as quickly as possible. Each of us had been taking turns staying up with him late into the night to assist, but even with the extra help it was going slow. Both Donnie and I were beginning to show signs of the stress; he snapped at any noise, and I was doing my best to catch a chest cold.

That had left Raphael and Michaelangelo to duke it out for the right to accompany Alex, and Raph had been triumphant. He's always been a dirty fighter.

While I was excited for Alex, I was devastated Raphael was going.

And this is where the fears come in. I know, logically, that most fears are irrational and unnatural- point in case, Raphael's (admittedly adorable) spasms around insects. But that knowledge hasn't helped me conquer one I have about my husband.

It's Raphael's fault, if there's any blame to place- and sometimes when I'm upset, I do. The morning after we gave into our passion for each other, I woke up cold and alone on the couch. There had been no coffee maker, and Raphael can barely string two words together before his morning cup, much less do any critical thinking. So he had rushed to a nearby grocer to buy one, leaving no trace of his presence behind. I quickly forgave him, but my rebellious mind has _never_ once forgotten.

Ever since, if I'm away from Raphael's presence for more than a patrol's length of time- five or six hours, maximum- I begin to panic. I _know _it's irrational; I _know _I trust him completely; I _know_ he is mine and I am his.

But logic fails me every time I try to fight this overwhelming emotion. It's rather problematic for both of us, to be honest. I have no desire to make him feel he's on a leash; and I know Raphael requires more mental space than the rest of us.

I finally explained this to him after I came home from Central America. Gods, but that trip had broken my soul in more ways than one. I felt much better after telling him and hearing his reassurances that to this day he continues to remind me of, unbidden. Unfortunately, it didn't help banish this terrible grip of horror.

And now Raphael had been gone for nearly three days, and I felt like I could set my skin aside and crawl off my bones.

I'd kept calm through the evening phone calls, and hearing Raphael's voice calmed me while we were talking. Hanging up had become one of the hardest tasks I'd faced in a long time.

It was nearly time for their call, and I was listening with half an ear from our bedroom while I attempted to sketch. Channeling my fear into my brushwork had been a great outlet, but I'd already been through two inkwells in as many days, and I'd run out long before Raph came home at the end of the week.

Finally I heard the clear, sharp ring from downstairs, and my heart leapt. I dropped my brush into a jar of water and left it- terrible form, but my mind was narrowed on one thought only. I shot to my feet and was halfway to the propped door when my cell began to buzz.

Puzzled, I pause and glance at it, and I feel a pleasurable tightness across my chest. Hurriedly I flip it open.

"Raph?"

"Where are ya?" he asks, and I frown at his brisk tone.

"Our bedroom. Why did you-,"

"Good. Sit down." I can hear the smile in his voice and I obey, relishing the relief tingling down my spine.

"I'm sitting."

"Close yer eyes."

Confused, I do so. When he speaks again, his voice has lost the hard edge; it's gentler, huskier.

"I miss you so damn much."

"So do I. Raph, I'm so embarrassed…"

"'Cause yer panicking?"

"…Yes."

"It's alright," he says soothingly. "Leo, it's okay. I called you to tell you I don't care. None of the others care. It's just yer thing and it's alright."

I can feel my face tighten into a scowl. "No, it's _not_ alright. I shouldn't become a blithering idiot just because- because- Damn it all, I'm afraid to even _say_ it." I slap a hand over my face in resignation. "Pathetic."

"…I like it."

I blink, ignoring his earlier command and stare stupidly at the brick wall for a few seconds before speaking. "Excuse me?"

"I like it," Raphael says confidently. "I've been thinkin' about it while I've been up here. It means security to me, Leo. Maybe yer right. Maybe it clouds yer judgment too much. Maybe it's just goddamn unhealthy. But it's one of the many ways you make me feel like I'm king of the world, an' I like that feelin'."

I pause again before answering, my mind racing to absorb this information and properly code and catalogue it. "Raph, that's redic-,"

"Hey," he cuts in irritably. "It ain't stupid, 'cause its how I _feel._"

"Well, I…" I lick my lips, unable to resist giving a humourous response. "I wouldn't _dare_ try to invalidate your feelings."

"'Xactly." I cringe slightly at the smugness of the response. "This is how I feel. I damn well like you gettin' all grabby and clingy, and it's alright."

I sigh before trying my protest again. "But, Raph-,"

"No 'buts', or I'm hangin' up right now."

"Okay," I reply immediately; a part of me ashamed at the meekness in my tone.

"Good."

I can hear him breathing, feel him thinking for the next few seconds before he speaks up again.

"So, Leo…"

"Yes?"

"We totally gotta try phone sex."

I slap my palm to my face again, feeling the heat rising. "I- Um- Really?"

Raphael churred loudly into my ear.

"J-Just a second," I gasped as I bolted off the bed. "Just let me close the door first…"


End file.
